Get down girl. Go ‘head. Get down

Ok. Fully realize the need to take it easy. Spend some time just bein’ with myself. And I am, it’s good, etc.

But I’m Itchy with pregame energy; stretching before the race, bouncing a leg on the bench, half hoping the coach will put me in, half hoping the clock runs out before I have to play.

I had a warmup last night. Someone just cute enough to be a distraction; the bartender (“jeweler, artist”). I think I might need to work on flirtatious banter:

“do you like jazz music?” he asked.

Hmmm. Hard question, actually. Couldn’t he have asked “do you like facials?” or “do you like wine?” so I could have answered with some enthusiasm?

Do I like jazz music? “I don’t know” I said….

Pause.

“Oh, because there’s this really famous trio (insert name here, never heard of them) at the jazz showcase this weekend.”

Pause.

Oh. Oops. Too late…

Later, when he offered me a piece of orange-goat-cheesecake (a special), I did NOT say “I really don’t like cheesecake.” I focused on the fact that I really do, in fact, like goat cheese. And oranges. And I took a big bite and licked my lips and gave him a look.

He doesn’t fit my checklist. He’s younger than me. I don’t think he’s smarter than me. He’s prettier than me. And he doesn’t have a plan. But shit. My list is missing things, it’s not foolproof.

Cheesecake, for example, when fashioned from tart goat cheese and sweet oranges with a dark chocolate crust, is actually to die for.